


The Dynasty Of The Black Dragons

by chloemacd



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Band of Nine, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, The Blackfyre Rebellion, War of the Ninepenny Kings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-12-25 11:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18260612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chloemacd/pseuds/chloemacd
Summary: It's 184 AC - King Aegon the Unworthy is dead. Daeron II sits the Iron Throne of his ancestors, and Bittersteel is growing restless - for it's taking long to convince Daemon to rise up and claim the Throne. Little does deceased Aegon know that legitimising his bastards on his death bed would probably be his most destructive act as King.This work is my version of the Blackfyre Rebellions, which may continue up until the current 300AC period. More character and relationship tags to be added. Contains some canon divergence and chapters of a sexual nature.





	1. Bittersteel

**Author's Note:**

> On the A Wiki Of Ice And Fire page it lists Rhaegel Targaryen as being born "in or between 173 AC and 177 AC". In this chapter its 184 AC which describes Rhaegel as being 10 so I've estimated him to be born in 174 AC.

He was summoned to his father's bedchamber after a sparring session with the master-at-arms that afternoon. As he walked throughout the castle to get to the King's chambers, he noted that a few people stopped and gave him sympathetic looks. _No, it can't be.._ He thought to himself, _his time isn't up yet.._

  
When he entered, he was enraged to see that Bloodraven was already there. So was Daemon, Daeron, to his surprise the three Otherys bastards.  
And Shiera.  
His heart fluttered. He wanted to stand by her, but his bloody thrice-damned half-brother was already there, whispering in her ear and making her giggle.

  
He looked to his father, and what he seen shocked him.  
Aegon the Fourth had always been fat in recent years, but sat in his bed, he looked like an overripe Apple about to burst. The bed looked like it was near collapsing too, for every time the King even moved, it creaked and sunk. The King had a foul stench on him too. _My father,_ Aegor thought with mixed emotions, _this is what the fat sack of suet has become.._  
"My children," the King said, with a little warmth. "I am an ill man, but I am also a dying one. I can feel my body shutting down even now. I do not have long left in this world."

  
Aegor observed the room. The Grand Maester looked to be near tears, as did Daemon and Daeron. Shiera was trying to hide her tears. _Don't cry, princess,_ Aegor thought. He was sad as well. He wanted to comfort her.

  
The King coughed. Some phlegm came up, as well as blood. The Grand Maester hurried forward with a red and black handkerchief and held it up to his father's mouth.  
After his coughing fit, the King raised his fat fingers. "Maester, bring forth my deceleration." He just managed to get out before coughing again.  
"As you wish, Your Grace." The grand maester reached into a shelf behind him and took out a rolled up scroll. The man unraveled it before handing it to the King.

  
"Daemon, my son, step forward." King Aegon IV said. Aegor looked to his favourite brother. Daemon was looking very regal today. He wore his usual court clothes, but for some reason today they were more flamboyant. His hair was straight and he was recently shaved.

"Father, I am yours to command." Daemon said, sinking to his knees beside the bed.       "Oh rise, none of that." Aegon said in a now gravelly voice.  
The grand Maester handed Aegon a quill and ink, and he began writing in what could only be a scrawled hand. Then, after doing that, he spoke.

"I, Aegon of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, proclaim that from this day forward, my son Daemon shall no longer be a Waters, - but legitimised as Prince Daemon of House Targaryen. You are now Daemon Targaryen, son of Aegon the Fourth Targaryen and Princess Daena Targaryen."

The room was silent. Aegor didn't know what to think.

  
Daemon looked too stunned for words. "Father, y-you honour me beyond belief, I-"  
"-It's not honour, son, it's only common sense. You were born from two Targaryen's. It shall only be right that you were raised to one."  
He now noticed that Daeron was looking tense. Then he realised. Daemon is older than Daeron. _Now that Daemon was a Targaryen, he would have the better claim.._  
The maester then brought forward a long velvet red cloth. When Daemon unfolded it, not even Aegor could believe his eyes.

  
Father had bestowed the sword _Blackfyre_ on to Daemon.

  
Daeron was also now holding back a red rage.  
"Father, I-I cannot. This sword.. Daeron deserves it more than I." Daemon turned to his true born brother. "Brother, take this." Daeron made no move to take it, but just scowled and clenched his jaw.  
"The King's word is final!" Aegon somehow managed to bellow out. "The sword is yours, Daemon, and only yours. I might have to take you head off if you gift it to anyone else."  
Daemon had no choice but to meekly accept it.

  
It turned out that their father was legitimising them all on his deathbed. Bloodraven was called forward after Daemon, then the Otherys bastards, then Aegor. Some of the other bastards weren't present - such as Bloodraven's bitch sisters, but they were legitimised anyway, as were the King's children by Merry Meg.

  
When the grand Maester ushered them out due to the King's temperature skyrocketing, Daeron didn't need to be told twice. He barged past them, particularly putting emphasis on pushing past Daemon.

  
Aegor then had an idea. He followed Daemon, who was probably making for his chambers.  
"Brother!" He called out, his voice echoing off the corridor walls. Daemon turned around.  
"Aegor Targaryen. Yours has a ring to it." Daemon Targaryen grinned.  
"Do you know what it means to bestow _Blackfyre_ on to a prince?" Aegor asked.  
Daemon looked lost for a second, but then it seems to click. "It's a subtle suggestion that they're heir to the Iron Throne."  
"Exactly. There's a reason that father gave you that sword. Daeron is next in line, but he's hardly a fighter - he's more like an old maid than a warrior. Do you know what this means, brother?! He sees you as the next King when he dies!" Aegor ranted, trying to keep his voice down. They were technically talking treason here - for they didn't see Daeron as their King even though it would probably only be hours before their father died.

  
Daemon looked skeptical. "I am older than Daeron, that is true. I have the sword, yes, but we've had this talk a thousand times, brother. How will I find support? What Houses would join me? The last time Targaryen's fought Targaryen's, thousands suffered. I'd only be Rhaenyra and Daeron the second Aegon without dragons." He said, and made to walk away but Aegor grabbed his arm.  
"We'll never know unless we try." Was all he said.  
Daemon's purple eyes looked into his own. He seen the faintest hint of a smile on his face.  
"I'll send word to my mother, lady Barba, and trust me, she will raise Stone Hedge in support of you if I ask her to." Aegor insisted.  
"House Bracken won't be enough, Aegor. If our father dies this very day, and Daeron ascends the throne, you know who he'll name as his Hand? Most likely our dear brother Brynden. Brynden's own mother is Missy Blackwood. She'll raise House Blackwood against us." Daemon argued. At the mention of Bloodraven and Missy Blackwood, Aegor's blood boiled again. That whore got my mother dismissed from court, he thought, let her bring House Blackwood so I can smash them all to smithereens.  
"Then who can we trust?" Aegor said desperately.  
"We must be discreet." Daemon had had enough. "Give me time. That's all I ask. Have you forgotten that I have to be wed?"  
Aegor hadn't. His brother was wedding the Archon of Tyrosh's daughter, Rohanne, and their father was supposed to have paid the Archon the dowry by now, but the King was too ill and the Hand too busy.

  
Aegor was about to say farewell when somebody rounded the corner. He hadn't heard anyone coming, but then again he was too caught up in convincing Daemon to be King that he didn't listen for much else.

  
It turned out, it was only ten year old Rhaegel. Aegor couldn't help but feel disdain at the fact they let such a halfwit prance around the Red Keep. Just last week the Kingsguard had to retrieve him from the throne room in the middle of the night as he was dancing naked in a circle. When the boy came upon them, he smiled and said hello before slobbering a bit on himself when Daemon asked how he was. _He's my father's grandson, yet Rhaegel couldn't sweep a stable with ten thousand brooms._ Aegor thought bitterly.

  
When Rhaegel went off spinning, Daemon looked slightly disgusted. "That poor lad will be dead before he's a man."  
"Did you hear him before he came round that corner? How much do you think he heard us say?!" Aegor demanded. Rhaegel may be meek, mad and sickly, but I bet he's not as dumb as he plays out to be.  
"The boys a lack wit, Aegor, he wouldn't have been able to comprehend." Daemon dismissed it immediately. Daemon also dismissed himself, not even giving Aegor a say in the matter.

  
It was early the next morning that King Aegon the Unworthy passed away in his sleep.

The bells ran out across the city in mourning. Aegor decided to be honest with himself from now on - there was probably a very small population of people actually saddened by the King's death. Aegon the Fourth was called the Unworthy for a reason - he was almost akin to Maegor the Cruel, although he was never cruel to Aegor. 

It was that very afternoon that Daeron ascended the Iron Throne as Daeron II of House Targaryen with the blessing of the Faith of the Seven.

  
 _Change is coming_ , Aegor thought as he stood in the front row of the crowd of mostly nobles gathered to watch their new King's coronation. _The kingly notion has been planted into Daemon's head, it just needs time to be sewn and grow_


	2. Baelor

  
"My prince, Lady Jena has birthed a boy." The Blackhaven Maester announced.

  
Baelor Targaryen's heart fluttered with excitement. He didn't even care he probably looked like an excited child at that moment, he jumped out of his seat and jogged into the room where his wife was. He already had a son, to be true. Valarr was almost a year old now, and was thriving more everyday. He couldn't wait to meet this one though.

  
He entered the room slowly, in case Jena had fallen asleep after the birth, which he knew was an exhausting process. When he peeked his head around the door, she wasn't asleep, she was happily holding their newborn son, who was wrapped in an abundance of blankets. She turned her head and grinned at him.  
"Come and see him," Jena Dondarrion spoke ever so softly.  
He walked closer and stood by his wife's side. He could have wept with happiness. Their son was fast asleep and content, with chubby, rosy cheeks. His lips were wet, which meant he would have fed not long ago.  
"He's so beautiful.." Was all he could whisper.   
"Your mother will be pleased." Jena smiled up at him. Baelor's mother, Mariah Martell, was a gentle woman who had said ever since Baelor and his brothers were children that she couldn't wait for grandchildren. When she'd held Valarr for the first time, Baelor thought she'd never let him go. Jena's parents were the same. They weren't in the castle at the moment, as they had to meet with some other Marcher lord, but they'd come running back when they got told the news, he knew.

  
Baelor ever so gently took his child into his arms. He was careful not to wake or stir the babe. All he could so was stare at it in wonder. _One day he'll be by Valarr's side, and help his brother rule the country. Hells, he may even join the Kingsguard or become Hand. Or he could lead a vanguard.._

  
His mother and father by-law rode back into Blackhaven just before the sun went down. Baelor and Jena decided to surprise them by standing in the entrance hall holding the babe, who they decided to name Matarys. Valarr was held in Baelor's arms whilst Jena held their newest sweetheart. It was almost comical, as Lord and Lady Dondarrion's jaws almost dropped. They knew their daughter was pregnant, they just didn't know that she'd been in labour today as they had rode out the previous night. _And now the fawning begins._  
He thought that Valarr was sure to be jealous, even if he was only eleven months old. But their darling son wasn't at all, but then again, he was probably still too young to comprehend. He'd held his young brother already and barely reacted, just held a curious look.

  
They stayed at Blackhaven for another three weeks until Matarys grew old enough, as they were summoned back to King's Landing to welcome Baelor's father Daeron as the King. Daeron was also eager to meet his newest grandson, as was his dear lady mother Mariah. Jena's parents were almost reluctant for their grandchildren to leave, but the King's summons were law. Lord Dondarrion couldn't let them leave at ease without an honour guard and an escort of his own, even if Baelor insisted that his own men were fine.

  
Two weeks later, they found themselves at Summerhall - the royal residence retreat used by the Targaryen's, and it was where Baelor's brother Maekar lingered. Baelor also expected that his other brother Aerys may be there if not in the capital. They were a mile away from the castle when Maekar's men fell in beside his party.  
"Prince Maekar sent us hunting, my prince, but he said to retrieve you and see you safely to the castle." One of the men explained. Baelor nodded.  
"How is my brother?" He asked the man.  
"Well, although as of late has taken to brooding on matters of state." The man replied. _That's always been Maekar,_ Baelor thought, _he's the fourth son of a fourth son, and so young, yet thinks he rules the kingdom._

  
The Summerhall steward welcomed them when they got into the yard. He escorted Jena and the children to their appointed apartments, and Baelor said he would find them later. For now, he had to find his brother.

  
Maekar wasn't so hard to find. His brother was unforgiving, and for good measure had his chambers on the highest level of the castle so that it was better to spot or sight enemies. He entered his brothers solar.  
Maekar was standing out on the balcony, and for half a moment Baelor thought he hadn't heard him come in. He had though, as he said a hello in welcome before sitting down across from Baelor.  
"What tidings have you brought me, brother?" Maekar asked.  
"You are an uncle, yet again." Baelor announced happily. He could tell that Maekar was probably happy for him too, but he didn't show it.  
"What have you named the babe?"  
"Matarys." He replied.  
"An odd name," Maekar said, - in criticism or curiosity, one could never quite tell. "Sounds similar to the city in Essos called Mantarys. It's said monsters roam there."  
 _My son is hardly a monster, fool._ He thought. "Is Aerys around?"  
Maekar seemed to grimace. "I've forced him to take his betrothed an afternoon ride around the estate."   
That surprised Baelor. "You cannot mean that our pious brother is getting married?! To whom?"  
"Our cousin, Aelinor Penrose. Her father all but begged for the match. Poor Ael seems giddy, but you know our brother - he cringes every time I mention that he must consummate."  
 _How hypocritical of you, brother,_ Baelor thought, _acting like a father, forcing Aerys to wed, when he himself isn't even married._  
"Let us hope this afternoon ride of theirs was through the meadows and valleys, for he may just ride off a cliff to his death." Baelor jested.  
The jape did not sit well with Maekar. His brother truly was an angry man in a teenagers body. "Could your humour be any more dark?"  
"Merely jesting, Maekar, I know it's hard for you to comprehend." He almost sniggered. He did love winding Maekar up when they were young boys, and it wasn't any different now.  
"Jape no longer. We have business to discuss." Maekar got up and poured them wine from the flagon. They sat down again.  
"What's bothering you?" Baelor asked, now serious.  
"Our grandfathers dying wishes." Maekar said with slight contempt.

  
Baelor knew what he meant. King Aegon the Fourth had legitimised all his bastards in his deathbed, - he had learned that at Blackhaven. Also, his obese grandfather had bestowed Blackfyre on to Daemon Waters (now Targaryen). Rumour had it that the old King had also given Brynden Rivers, also known as Bloodraven, the other Targaryen sword Dark Sister in secret so not to anger Bittersteel - Bloodraven's bitter rival.  
"Why? Do they pose us any harm?" Baelor Breakspear took a sip of wine, then a gulp.  
"I don't trust them, brother." Maekar said. "You were grandfathers eldest grandson, and our father is a good man and King, but he was never in to swords. Why would grandfather gift _Blackfyre_ to Daemon when by all rights it is yours? And that _Aegor_ ," Maekar explained, his face twisting in disgust when he spat out Bittersteel's name. "Bittersteel I know for a fact is up to something. Rhaegel heard Daemon and Aegor talking quietly in a corridor in the Red Keep a moon ago, he said that Daemon mentioned something about raising Houses. They invest our fathers court like roaches."

  
Baelor listened to his brother. He couldn't help but also have a bad feeling. He didn't mind his father's half-siblings that much, as none of them had ever given him any cause to despise them, but there was something about Daemon and Aegor he couldn't quite put his finger on. Aegor Rivers had always been an angry and bitter man who especially held a grudge against Brynden Rivers, who's mother Melissa Blackwood had got Aegor and his mother, Barba Bracken, dismissed from court. When jousting at tourneys, Baelor could probably hold his own against Bittersteel, but in melees the man was fast and fierce.

  
Maekar hosted a supper for them that night. Jena attended, as did Aerys and his betrothed, their cousin Aelinor, who looked happy enough. It was slightly awkward though, as nobody really spoke, until Aelinor broke the silence. "How long are you planning to stay, cousin?" She asked Baelor.  
"We're only staying the night, coz. The King and Queen are eager to meet their newest grandson." He chuckled at the end.   
"When do you and Aerys plan to wed, Aelinor?" Jena asked Aelinor.  
Baelor could see Aerys tense up and stop chewing. Maekar was looking at their brother with anticipation.  
"We.. Haven't decided yet." Was all Aerys said, barely looking up. Aelinor looked like she was internally cringing. He could hear Maekar sighing.  
"Did you enjoy your afternoon ride today, lady Aelinor?" Maekar asked. Even though Aelinor Penrose was family, Maekar never addressed her as "coz" like he did.  
"It was lovely, cousin." Aelinor answered happily enough, although her smile never quite reached her eyes. "I forgot to ask - is Rhaegel fine?"  
"Hale and healthy," Maekar answered. "Father is starting to look for potential maidens to betroth him to."  
That perked Aerys up. "Has father taken leave of his wits? Poor Rhaegel is only ten.."  
"Some children are betrothed the moment they are born, brother." Maekar replied, with a strict tone. "King Daeron may be our own father, but do not talk of him like that."

  
When they returned to their bedchamber to get some needed rest for their travelling the next day, Valarr and Matarys were fast asleep in the nursery adjoined to their room. That put Baelor at ease - his two boys were peaceful and safe.  
For a while, him and Jena stayed awake in the bed in the darkness, just cuddled into each other and talking about their days. However, it didn't take long for Jena to dose off, and Baelor kissed his wife's head before shutting his eyes.

  
That night, Baelor dreamed about himself in a bloody battle with arrows flying all around him - White straight shafts that were piercing the men around him. Somehow there were thousands of men wearing golden armour and golden banners were everywhere. He saw a queer standard - the Targaryen sigil, except this one had a black dragon on a red background. He also saw a sigil of a horse that had wings, and he saw a man that looked suspiciously like Bittersteel. He thought he saw Daemon as well.  
A voice then entered his dream. "Long live the King! DAEMON!!"

  
The dream then changed. He thought he heard some prophecy being recited, but couldn't hear it. The last thing he seen before waking up in a cold sweat was an image of Summerhall burning.

 


End file.
